


Three Months After The End Of The World, An Excerpt From Susan Pevensie's Diary

by Quecksilver_Eyes



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen, I love her, Memory Loss, alcohol tw, she doesn't know how to cope, she has an alcohol problem, she's kinda gaslighting herself here?, susan is a poor baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 18:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16247411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quecksilver_Eyes/pseuds/Quecksilver_Eyes
Summary: I think it was a fantasy, hidden in the old house’s creaks and groans. Lucy will never be the woman we made her up to be, she will never be anything more than seventeen, arguing and clenching her teeth. Wardrobes only lead into another world if children step into it.or:In which the Queen fades from her own memories and tries to detangle the shards of who she is.





	Three Months After The End Of The World, An Excerpt From Susan Pevensie's Diary

**June 8th, 1949, ca. 5 AM  
**

I don’t know who I am. I don’t know which parts of me I’ve made up as a child, hidden in shelters, my brothers arguing next to me, my little sister, eight years old and trembling in my arms. I don’t know which parts of me are fantasy, are a country hidden in a wardrobe, a train station, which parts of us were pretend.

I was Queen, once. I think. I don’t know. I think I remember wars, I think I remember a bow in my hands. I think I remember Edmund, with blood smeared on his lips, battered and bruised, I think I remember cherry blossom winded people, I think I remember the bombs. I think I remember the hunger, I think I remember forgetting what sugar tastes like, I think –

I think it was a fantasy, hidden in the old house’s creaks and groans. Lucy will never be the woman we made her up to be, she will never be anything more than seventeen, arguing and clenching her teeth. Wardrobes only lead into another world if children step into it.

I’m drunk. I probably don’t make much sense. The world is spinning.

The benefit was a flash of champagne and boys and speeches and I don’t think –

I think I –

There was a boy there, and he kept touching me, filling up my glass. Told me I was pretty. I’ve heard it all before, the waxing poetics, the desperation – but I haven’t. We’ve imagined it. But I just – I stood there, and I was so bored. The food was over seasoned and the champagne was cheap and I don’t know how I noticed, I have never had champagne before.

Why do I remember these things as if they’d actually happened? Why do I remember the pain and the boredom and the fights, why do I remember it all as if I’d actually seen it?

We pretended I was married, I remember that, pretended I had children. Sometimes I look for them. But they’re not – They weren’t real. We imagined them. I was twelve years old and thought we’d never see father again. We were all so bored.

So we came up with Narnia, and battles, and love, and all of these things that get tangled in my mind. So Peter was High King, Edmund was King, and Lucy and I were Queens. It wasn’t real.

It can’t have been.

I think I remembered what my spouse looked like, once. I can’t anymore. I’ve forgotten the names we gave these children we thought were mine. It doesn’t matter. It was a game. It has always been a game. I have to stop thinking about it.

I’m Susan Pevensie. I’m twenty-one years old. I study stenography in New York, I’m not married. The war has been over for four years and I don’t know a thing about archery.

And I’m tired. And drunk.

 

**Annotation, 12 PM:** Went to sleep. Am somewhat sober again. Corrected grammatical errors. Might rip this page out: it’s nonsense.

**Note to self:** Don’t drink champagne again. Don’t cry when wearing make up.


End file.
